


Geralt of Cintra nee Rivia

by Llama1412



Series: Cintra Happily Ever After [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Episode Related, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Happily Ever After in Cintra, M/M, Post-Episode AU: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Queen Calanthe wasn't just going to let Destiny fuck her grandkid up because the Witcher was stupid enough to claim the Law of Surprise and then leave. So he would just have to stay.AKA I want a happy story where everyone just hangs out in Cintra together and no one dies.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cintra Happily Ever After [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697593
Comments: 8
Kudos: 336





	Geralt of Cintra nee Rivia

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same universe as 5 Dinners with the Lioness (Plus 1 with the Lion Cub), but it goes AU after Chapter 5: Pavetta’s Betrothal Feast. Basically, what you need to know is that Jaskier and Calanthe are childhood friends and that while Jaskier travels on the road with Geralt most of the year, he considers Cintra his home. Geralt has no idea.

_“Fine, I...claim the tradition as you have. The Law of Surprise. Give me that which you already have but do not know.”_

_“No! What have you done, Witcher?”_

_“Fear not, Your Majesty. If I’m see in your kingdom again, it will be to kill a real monster, not to lay claim to a crop or a new pup. Destiny can go f–”_

_Pavetta vomited, and Calanthe knelt before her, cupping her face. “Pavetta, are you –?”_

“Fuck” Geralt swore and turned to leave before Destiny could fuck him over further.

“And where do you think you’re going, Witcher?” Queen Calanthe’s voice rang out through the hall, and Geralt stopped against his better judgement. _Wasn’t this evening punishment_ _enough?_ he thought to himself. His ears were still ringing from the commotion even now and his back ached where he’d slammed into the column fighting against the whirlwind. All he wanted was to leave this place, take a nice long bath, and drink himself stupid.

“I promise you, Your Majesty, I have no interest in claiming the child.” Geralt ground out.

“I don’t care what interests you, Witcher. You invoked Destiny after that – _display_ of chaos. I will not let you bring that down upon this child.” The Queen’s voice was unyielding.

Geralt began to feel trapped. “Your Majesty – “ 

Calanthe cut him off with a raised hand. “Leave us.” She ordered to the crowd at large. Geralt cringed internally as he realized how much gossip about Witchers would be circulating around all the kingdoms on the Continent in the coming months. The nobles disbursed slowly, already chattering loudly.

When Calanthe lowered her hands, Mousesack, Eist, and Jaskier remained standing next to him, though the noblewoman Jaskier had been fawning over had left. Duny had led Pavetta to a seat and was kneeling next to her, hands clasped together. Calanthe had not moved a hair, and she stared him down the entire time.

“Now,” she began, “I understand that your Witcher’s Path requires you travel a great deal. I believe we can all agree that is not an ideal environment for a child. But if Destiny demands you be a part of her life, then we shall dictate the terms. I don’t care where you go or what you do, but you will return to Cintra regularly. Consider this your new home base.” She smiled faux-pleasantly at him and he felt a shiver go down his spine, though he refused to show it. “Do not make me hunt you down, Witcher. I don’t care what your intent was, a promise given must be kept, isn’t that what you said? You will be part of this child’s life, or you will force me to consider you an enemy of Cintra. Do you understand?”

Geralt’s jaw clenched tight. This was absurd – no child would want a Witcher to be part of their life. But perhaps that could work in his favor. He couldn’t make an enemy of Calanthe, who stood with her armies available at the twitch of a finger. But if the Princess was experiencing morning sickness already, then he would only need to humor the Queen for a year or so before they remembered a Witcher was not someone who should be permitted around children. Then he would be free, and he and Jaskier could continue to travel with no one pulling their strings. “I understand,” he ground out.

“Excellent.” Calanthe said. “Well, tonight was a shit show, and I need a drink. We’ll figure out how to deal with this tomorrow. Julian, show your Witcher to a room for the night.”

_Who the fuck is Julian?_ Geralt was about to ask, when Jaskier spoke up, “come on, Geralt, let’s go. We can deal with this after some sleep.” He placed a hand on Geralt’s arm and started tugging him towards a door that led deeper into the castle.

Geralt stared at him. “Julian?”

“What, you think my parents named me Buttercup? Nah, I chose it myself. The Queen just thinks flower names are stupid, so she refuses to use it.” When Geralt didn’t move, Jaskier gave a deep sigh and hooked his arm through Geralt’s, making it easier to drag him along.

Of course, Jaskier could never move Geralt without his consent. But Geralt let himself be dragged along, trying to understand when exactly during this night the world had gone and changed on him. “You know the Queen.” Jaskier just hummed, and Geralt noticed that Jaskier seemed to know exactly where he was going. “And you seem awfully familiar with this castle.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve lived here on and off for most of my life,” Jaskier said casually, as if that weren’t mindblowing information. Jaskier glanced back when Geralt stopped moving and just shrugged at him. “It’s not as if you ever asked for my backstory, you know. And I know you’re not a fan of all this pomp and circumstance. I figured you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about it.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Geralt mumbled. “Never known you to avoid a topic.”

Jaskier knocked his shoulder into Geralt’s, probably bruising himself more than the Witcher. “You say that as if I have a limited number of things to talk about. I assure you, Geralt, I can easily talk about absolutely nothing.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. You’re doing it right now.” 

“Shut up. We’re here~” Jaskier cut him off and opened a door with a dramatic flourish. Inside was was a large sitting room with a fire already blazing in the grate. There were two doors in the room, and one of them was propped open to reveal a bathing chamber with an ornate tub already steaming. 

“When did you order a bath?”

“Oh, it’s a standing order. The servants know that the – uh, the household likes a soak after parties. As soon as things start winding down, they send people to take care of it. When I’m here, I just mooch off the tradition.” 

The bath called to him, but Geralt pulled his gaze away to take in the rest of the room. It was very clearly not an unoccupied guest room – there were books laying out on the desk and papers spread on the coffee table in front of the fire. On the wall was a blindingly ugly tapestry of wildflowers that could only be to Jaskier’s taste.

“This is your room.” He realized. “You have a room in Cintra. In the castle. Where you “mooch” off the royal family.” If he were Jaskier, he would have added air quotes to _mooch,_ but Geralt did not do dramatic. He was the sensible one, which is why it was totally reasonable that he was freaking out right now.

Oh, it had been obvious that Jaskier was a noble. His taste in clothes, his careless spending and gambling, the way he always waved trouble off with an _it’ll work out_. The bastard had the Queen’s favor – while obviously worth the most within Cintra, that would be enough to earn acclaim in many of the Northern Kingdoms.

Why the hell was Jaskier traveling with him, when this is the life he could have? Extravagant feasts, lavish quarters, perfectly timed baths just when he wanted – they all so clearly fit the Jaskier he’d come to know this past decade. He’d simply assumed that Jaskier was the runaway son of some minor noble, that traveling with a Witcher on and off had started out as a lark. But if this is the life he could have had all along, why would he choose to go with Geralt?

Jaskier waved a hand in front of his face, and Geralt realized he’d tuned out the bard’s rambling while he thought. “What,” he snapped.

Jaskier scoffed. “Oh, that is so like you! You ask a question and then you don’t even listen to the answer!” He slapped his hand to his face with exaggerated slowness. “Why do I put up with this?”

“Why do you?” It took Geralt a moment to realize that the quiet voice that asked that had been his own. He didn’t think he’d ever sounded so timid.

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed, blinking at him, “oh, sweetheart, no.” Geralt jerked back at the pet name, but Jaskier pushed forward and cupped Geralt’s face in his hands. “Geralt, let me be clear. You are a colossal idiot at times – and this is me saying that! – but I put up with you because I want to. I love you, you dumbass. I’m the one that chose to follow you, remember?”

“Hnn.” Geralt said. 

“Hnn, he says,” Jaskier mocked. “Go get in the bath. You look like you want to declare your vows before it.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “I’ll join you in a bit, so feel free to heat it to your too-hot-for-humanity standards until you get comfortable.”

Well, he had been hoping to soak his bruises. This wasn’t at all how he had anticipated it happening, but this tub was certainly larger and more comfortable than anything he could have gotten at an inn. As his sore muscles sunk into the boiling-hot bath, he decided he could deal with whatever politics the Queen would undoubtedly try to stick him into if he got to end his nights like this.

Jaskier came up behind him and dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. While Geralt swore and flailed, he laughed and carefully stuck his pinky into the bath to test the temperature. Satisfied, he set himself to adding a careful array of salts and oils before joining Geralt in the bath.

Later, Jaskier cuddled into his chest in the truly absurdly large tub that Geralt was keeping heated with the occasional burst of _agni,_ Geralt took a deep breath and let himself savor the moment.

Maybe Destiny wasn’t so bad sometimes.


End file.
